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Old 10-13-05   #21
Nathan Charles
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Victims of the Cross

Victims of the Cross
(Crucifixion as Neurosis)
See him fall upon decay
All of this, the shadow part he plays
Should he throw himself away
Or play the martyr gone insane

To hold a portrait of this world
Emptiness entombed by hollow words
A womb to leave their vision blurred
A voice so quiet no one heard

The prophet dies
They see him now
The dead can’t lie
They listen now
The dead can fly
They love him now,
This newborn life inside the grave,
Whose throne is in the ground
In Death our Words become the God, we die to feed the Hungry Dogs, the Truest Martyr and the Light Beneath the fog…

Scars create their happy home
The star that fades is left alone
The one untouched will burn unknown
Tragic death is chaos on a throne

Another cross to feed the script
A bleeding child the world has stripped
And from this world, himself he ripped
The deeper scar upon their lips

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Old 10-14-05   #22
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The Princess

I
Her daily dose of triviality had given her a lack of any lasting passion for the slower threads of life. This girl, unconsciously awash in dreams of Daddy, the love that never was, nor ever would be no matter how many hearts crushed under the weight of the burden of her pain, all hidden.
Her constant cry for those whose passion ceased to give was, "I don't remember..."
Those given the displeasure to hear it felt the dismissal of their subtle advances... and wept in silence. No consolation for the weak at heart, only a source of worship, to be kept free from all blame, and at all costs. Were they to give voice to these festering wounds they would only further cool her already drifting passions and hurl her all the more into the arms of this other lover, this Allure of the First Encounters, which is not to be had in one who cares enough to feel neglected. The real trick to gaining her favor is not to care. Just as Daddy didn't care, and what is seen in this is but a longing for something.. what was it?
The reversal of it, this longing, this longing for the love of Daddy, buried over the pain of years of "not caring". She is given a chance to see a reflection of her longing in the eyes of these men. But this is not the whole story...

II
What cruel possessive eye out from which she sees, out from the eyes of her mother. A natural proclivity accentuated in the womb and in the walls of her prison. A prison not seen for the blindness of her infant eyes.


III
Yes, My Dear
Your shallow memory,
I fear
Could never hope to clear
The fog of your forgetfulness
But is it shallowness
Or simply callowness
Nay, even callousness
At facing that once held most dear
O, yes I fear
But for what, I cry, O wise enlightened "seer"?
I fear, for my possessiveness,
That queer twinge of long ago obsessiveness,
The stain of that which left me since
The days when pain was my only love,
Now finds its way transgressing this,
My freedom and submission
to that which is above such weaknesses
O, that I could slay the snake of rage!
Her tenderness assuage,
Seductions all engaged
The marriage of our souls,
In hatred and in love,
To release us from this cage.
Her cloven tongue, her poison tail
Could not assail
The Saturnine perfection of my tale
This poem is a travesty of good art
Yet, how else am I to wail?


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Old 10-14-05   #23
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That was very amusing poem. It reminded me of the Old English literature...they style anyways...I'll probably have to re-read it, but I don't quite understand how III relate to I...unless you are trying to say "she" did something to "you".
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Old 10-14-05   #24
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Well, in a nutshell the first two parts are a poetical overview of "her" behavior towards men. I put the influence of her father in the first, her mother in the second. The last part is my lament in the form of an almost lighthearted lyrical rambling. When I got to the last line I was getting somewhat irritated with the whole poem. Basically, it explains her, and my reaction at having been such a fool as to actually fall in love with her.
And thanks for commenting. Truth be told that is exactly the reaction I was hoping to get.
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Old 10-15-05   #25
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The Awakening

The Awakening
Part 1
I
Withered words, dependent on rivulets of pain. I prefer an ocean of it, of everything. My mind, sickened like a pale beast. A shy, wanton monster. Animals to help escape. Where are the witnesses, thrilfully awaiting their meal of blood and souls? Strange to hear their cries.
What caused this madness? Who can escape this something out of nothing? Do we have the key to an ancient wilderness, unknown? Have we forgotten what it means to be free? Enshroud with masks of the Halloween night.
Masks ensure the safety of cowards. To cover the face is to unveil the mind. Puncture the soul with a knife of brilliant chaos. Sin is a given delight meant for indulgence. Infantile sexuality has claimed me.
A moment in the mind, the mouth ignores. Why? Damn it! What is there to lose that we wonít gain? Delusions of immortality. Do you claim to know the secret to eternity? There is no secret. Itís all right here. Use it. Nothing to lose that we wonít gain.
The sun is eternally pregnant. And morning dew sets upon the night, warning us of the coming of day.
Illicit beauty. Perversion, corruption. Sick, magnificent mind.
Distant waving thoughts lapping in the darkness that rules my unconscious.
Weeping in my sleep.
Emphatic desires. Naked awakening. What lurks beneath must form words. Struggling to persist.
I have abolished my own private antiquity. A history of humiliation, guilt, and pain. Wandering beneath the shadows of eternal delight.
A canyon filled with ashes soaking in a river of dry, metaphorical tears.
Imbroglio of outstanding souls mixing to form a cataclysmic response. Unimaginable outcome. The end result as yet unseen.
The gods did not create us. They have only mocked us.
We are the gods of tragedy. Comical in the grand theatre of infinity. Watch the clowns dance their circus waltz. A perfect stupor of drunken faith.
I do what I do to anoint the souls of us all.
In unity we shall fly without effort to a wiser, more calm and confident state of being.
A chaotic unification brings contentment. A chance to move on to a more significant aspect of existence.
I search the eyes of others for signs of understanding. Negative communication is a burden. Such potential you hide. I search for you.
Do not fear open doors. Do not ignore your curiosity. Break through barriers that block your means of perception. Use any method you choose to aquire.
The pain is understandable, conquerable. It can lead to paradise as yet unknown. Or untold.
Garden of wicked pleasures; guilt is quick to consume. What pains can save us? Pleasure then unfolds.
Sensual intoxication. An essence of sensuous intervals make pain of worth. More pain, more pleasure, enlightenment through sensory delights.
Life can become a dream, terribly real, seemingly impossible.
What nightmares lurk beneath, awaiting the softest point of vulnerability?
Unseen, unheard; lashing poisoned, metaphorical whips. The pain of shattered souls made real.
Forgotten memories replaced by new pain. A longing I had merely repressed. A foolish mind had thought it could cut away the love and desire. She is a statue of auburn hair and white skin, yet I am the one so trapped in stone! Feelings struggling to escape. Ah, her delicate freckles so small and light.
Hazel fills the vast pool of her eyes.
O, as the image of her body fades my feelings excel.
Abandonment! If I could turn to you my longing would be the first to go.
II
The politics of war do sicken me. Leaders, madmen out for blood and souls of the seemingly innocent. Greed for the pain and fear of others. Slow death. I seem to feel nothing for these faces of sorrow, of desperation, devastation. Their pain can only end.
Ah, such torture; what just rewards are given?
Who is good, who is evil? Black and white is not a method of my conscious or unconscious thought. Every aspect is to be considered to inspire a deeper perception. Beware of self-deception! In an ocean of lies youíll find that youíve become the devil.
Written words can be difficult, if not impossible to twist with lies. Your true nature is revealed inside every nuance.
The burning sensations I embrace with open eyes. What lies persuade me from my destination, bliss? Eternal enlightenment. Infinite knowledge.
Where is my passageway to the unknown? O, fear, such a thrilling delight. What happens when fear is gone? What could I do to lure it back? Such a dangerous delight!
Oooh, what pleasures could unfold in forms of madness? I think Iíd call it a golden spiral. A dance with angels at midnight. And demons watching behind a veil of trees, jealous of me, another demon dancing with angels.
Mellifluous insinuations in a time of narcissistic chaos. The wind my beautiful savior. It cleanses my body and mind. My soul unleashed, it is so old. Yes, this is life. To swim eternally in seas of trance.
III
This life is only a moment in eternity. It matters not whether we have souls. Eternity is inevitable.
My writing must be driven at as in the likeness of prophetic angels in infinity. This is the great trueness of my being. Self-love, self-hate, pure indulgence deeply desired and as yet unfulfilled.
I look into my eyes and see a demon. Many demons on a quest for purity and endless nights spent with impossible angels. All my feelings are like a burning snake with no beginning and no end slithering around inside my brain. It almost hurts, but I know that eternal pain is an impossibility. Eventually the unexpected pleasure jumps out and engulfs my entire being. It seems to last forever and when it finally abandons me I feel desperate and alone though ready with an open heart for pain.
The world is like corpse, rotting from within. No worries, no worries. Time is everything.
IV
Instantaneous revelations. Indestructible ramifications, growing undeniably in chaotic directions. Universal desires. I am trapped in restless longing for roads unseen.
Angels guiding me softly through existence. The ghosts of these dancing angels haunt my inner regions where demons wait for night.
My birth, to rise and fall again. Death will always swim within the shadows, never to come. Humanity fears this impossibility and fear helps them to ignore, thus civilization will appear. I find something terribly wrong with a coming together based upon blinding lies. Why not live?
Things only matter in the moment and if the moment is boring than itís just a pointless memory.
Spontaneous and shocking visions have begun to torment me in my longing for my beautiful, hazel-eyed angel. Auburn hair to match the softness of her glowing white skin. A pale and perfect ghost, immaculate soul. When, when will I be near enough to her again to see the light and tiny freckles of her perfect little nose?
As this longing crashes down upon me I can only die. Lonely nights spent wondering who is in my place. Such unbearable torment. Innocence is my disguise. A sad poet awakening from dreams of lovers kept distant by pale panes of glass.
The wind howls like a colorless beast that carries everything to an unknown destination. A fabrication of nature. Just another ghost of the wilderness desperately groping for a loverís hand in this blind darkness of souls.
Such exhausting hate and contempt for the awful demons that surround me. Their endless games inspire the need for murder. Contained and explosive. The demons remain upon the threshold. Death is waiting at their shoulders, breathing loathful breath. They do not feel this breath, this warning of consent. They seem to ask for death.
When will my iron will begin to snap?
V
No statues last forever. Eternity is a series of changes flowing into one another. O, what a writhing pile of drunken filth I tend to breed. Poisons swimming under my skins. When can I shed the painful flesh?
Girls around me, like statues in museums. I look but canít touch. How could they possibly allow it? A demon dancing with angels? Perhaps, I could indulge when the shadows of midnight cloak my more horrible self.
VI
Madness must be used to make consciousness an ever-flowing truth. Letting go to create exploring ramifications. Wild uninhibited insanity. Psychotic love of everything. Hate and sadness ring like bells in each ear. They prevent my aptitude for true enlightenment to sing like birds in each ear.
Strings of flesh held together by a soul.
I gaze at the mirror and shrink back, afraid. Who is this monster? How is it that he is still alive?
What demons gave me such power? My guilt is sensitive and perhaps my curse. It is a twisted cacodemon devouring my insides, and I gag. Indifference is the goal, the impossible goal.
Where are my angels at this moment?
Forced into imaginary conversations to avoid an early grave. I could always use sorrow by shooting it through my veins like a drug needed for the function of despair. It would play the part of the only feeling left to give me life. And now I shrug at the aloofness of such petty suffering. It went nowhere, nor did I. It was a dead fog that hovered, blinding me. But my will has prevailed and I can laugh at the circus around me; the magicians, clowns and fools. I am a devil and an angel, and I can see because I trust myself, rising, looking down.
The self-observation has finally ended and my arrow will soon begin to fly.
Part 2
I
Born into the Oedipal despair already given to another. I am my own mother and my fathers have been poets and musicians. Where is Dionysus now? I feed insatiable disasters. I must have whores to satisfy my lust and subjugate angel that was never plucked. I drink the poisonous nector and feel the millions of tiny spiders scurrying along my veins. An immense intoxication takes my hands and it is never the same. The apotheosis of unpredictability.
Shedded fear: a creativity.
Thrillful inspiration, a true confrontation with death makes for the strongest feeling of life.
Pain and pleasure, the two great siblings of existence. Children growing like leaves without roots. The twisted barrier of authority provokes rebellion. Involuntary abuse of those held most precious. A bosom lacking comfort. Twisting lies, show us by dying. Rearrangement of the truth. The lies must be thrown into a dramatic disorder. Psychological surgery. We are needed for the grand retrieval. We lords, seers, overmen, silent masters of the world. We must scream the words of the great trueness of being into ears whipped silent.
II
There are moments when weakness is all consuming. I feel I must hide, but absolute sanctuary is always torn away by demons who share my blood.
Where are my true siblings? The lords, seers, overmen, the silent masters of awakened consciousness? Tap into the unconscious with conscious will. Use anything humanly possible for an emphatic awakening. The awakening. It.

Finished: 40 a.m., August 7, 1999


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Old 10-18-05   #26
Nathan Charles
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A panicked awakening from the moment of birth. Struggling to express. A prophet guided me to the words I sought. Naked to myself, drunken, naked awakenings. A silent master still in the moment of anticipation.
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Old 10-21-05   #27
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Burning in Hell

Burning in Hell
Adorn the first of pawns
Purify the lie
The fire burns them all
Who fuck with my whole life

The wickedness I’m sewing
Melting down their worthless lives
The twisted web is growing
Delighting solely in their cries


Lives destroyed with minds as toys
The misery I so enjoy
Becoming stone from souls destroyed
The cold alone can bring me joy

Crack the walls
Through doors of hell
Quickly as they sigh
Freedom calls
Remove the cell
Crumbling from inside

Adorn the first of pawns
Simplify the lie
The fire burns at dawn
Smolder in the sky
Chase the clouds tomorrow
Or burning winds will flow
The blinding reign of sorrow
Gives thoughts a gentle glow

Lives destroyed with minds as toys
The misery I so enjoy
Becoming stone from souls destroyed
The cold alone can bring me joy

Crack the walls
Through doors of dawn
Gently as they sigh
Walk the halls
Control the pawns
Evil as they cry

The cold entombs my soul
To sanctify my greed
My mind intrudes the whole
The feeble minds will bleed
The worm of the world in you
Cowardly cries not heard
The seeds of the old entomb
Cowardly eyes of the herd

Lives destroyed with minds as toys
The misery I so enjoy
Becoming stone from souls destroyed
The cold alone can bring me joy

Crack the walls
Through doors of hell
Quickly as they sigh
Freedom calls
Remove the cell
Crumbling from inside
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Last edited by Nathan Charles; 10-22-05 at 19:47.
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Old 10-22-05   #28
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The Valley of Pain and Pleasure

1
The veil of mist across the slumbering sky dreams of an ocean of stars. The night is soon to come and my nightmares have already begun. Demons twisting, turning, lashing out inside my troubled skull. The devil is welcome to roam the landscape of my mind. His deceit is read quite well; I see his horrific torments and blessed. In what delicious suffering can I indulge? The pain is delightful.
Call me bastard, deomon, I don't care. Make it your life's work to bore me with your stupid lies.
My pain can only lead to pleasure. Yes, the pleasure of relief when the pain has decayed and drifted silently away.
O brothers, O sisters, why the ridiculous masks? Your journey toward the end has been ignored a thousand times.
I've begun my search throughout the valley of pain and pleasure. I accumulate my discoveries and absorb through every pore. I hear things and see them as they are.
I have seen mindless ghosts through the sweat soaked air that surrounds my bed. And struggling, I breathe the heavy atmosphere in intense waves of passion turned to silent dismay.
Fear has been my muse. I play with it, abuse it like a loved pushed away only to be held close once again. I taste the pain and savor its miserable sensations. In pleasure I am frozen and it seems impossible that it should end.
My flesh is but a mere vessel of sensation in which my eyes have come to see the world as only I can see it. Flaws are the sordid details of perfection. Everything destroys itself and this is the so called flaw that humans have deemed an imperfection.
Life is a constant changing, molding, and flowing. Azure columns of a city built in heavenly light. Eyes struggling to pierce the monstrous crimson shade. A beautiful Persion paradise.
I look upon the face of The School of Athens and see myself, somewhere hidden within the shadows of eternal enlightenment.


2
A new night has come to bring me a blooming, blissful euphoria. I lay upon the wooden deck and the clouds are like puffy ships sailing through a sea of scintillant stars. The swimming atmosphere holds a benevolent splendor. The smell of burning wood lingers gently off in the distance and my mind surprises me with a glorious rapture, so captivating.
The trees cradle me in the streets of an empty evening.
Day. The flowers budding, turquoise from the trees with a backdrop of foreboding clouds.
The clouds on the horizon, reddish powder flowing across the sky. When will this hot, red sand pour like so many tiny flames to burn my crying eyes to sleep? When will my lids be seared shut and my mind turned away like so much stinting? I stand on the threshold of euphoria and am burned. Blundering into unimaginable pleasure only to realize its passing away. I try desperately to remember it only to find myself brooding in despair. So foolish for such a piercing mind.
Stripped naked of all but pain, I see the landscape of my mind a sea of discoveries.


3
The smiling moon and Venus staring at me with her one and only eye, so tranquil, perched upon the sky in an incandescent slumber.
I've moaned, cried, and cursed in my sleep. A bastard child, devil, demon. Unimaginable escape.




This poem is incomplete. I discovered it while going through some of my old writing and saw that the last portion of it is missing. I'm going to have to do some searching. I only hope it isn't lost for good.
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Old 10-24-05   #29
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Falsified in Darkness

Found a truth in disbelief
Falsified in darkness, oneness
Fluttered all away
Wings that swayed, a tongue that stung this
As the tail of it lashed out in painÖ
Cut away and scar the saint
Prolong this death, the Child, the King, the Haunted Blood,
and Savior for the sake of love that left him Raped.
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Old 10-29-05   #30
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To Covet
(Greed as Obsession)

A dark prism
A prison
Hide behind the mirror
No forgiven souls abound this year
Death does not take place without this fear
My dear, please donít leave me lying here

I hope your gods will never find me
What Iíve done and what I am
The sinful taste that binds me

Fuck the world for all itís worth
All the lust and all the shit
Depraved and sick from the moment of birth

Shoot my death into your veins
Shoot my death into your veins
Shoot my death into your veins
Let my mess infect your brain

I nailed my dick upon this cross
All Iíve had and all Iíve seen
All things pure forever lost
Raping souls to serve our greed
All Iíve plundered all Iíve drained
Infecting all with poison seeds

Shoot my death into your veins
Shoot my death into your veins
Shoot my death into your veins
Let my mess infect your brain

Diseased freedom
A kingdom
Sing the song of shit
Sodomize the soul for one more hit
To love the one whose throat we slit
All submit and all will find that this is it.
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Old 11-01-05   #31
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Tree of Power
(Evolution)
Breed the crop, the soil is lies
A walking fetus without eyes
Eating shit to please the flies
Those who fast are told to die
A twisted fear portrayed as pride
The veil of God in which you hide

Find a weaker one to feed the lies
Avoid the shit, attract no flies
Death becomes you as I’m born
A king whose death was never mourned
The riots all have seen before
Won’t stop this time until the core
Won’t stop with liars, thieves and whores
At last we’ll finish this eternal war
Find a weaker one to feed the lies
Avoid the shit, attract no flies
The burning has begun
You, the target, God’s disease
Our eyes become the gun
Your hell has brought you to your knees
We are the god, the newborn one
Burned your kingdom, set you free
You have no legs to run
We, the god, become the Beast
You, the target, now deceased

A wave now split against the shore
Our peak is coming to the fore
Devour your weak, the elders, no more
Your angels with wings so decrepit and sore
The god we are weaving, the killer of yours
Abysmal, the river, your souls to be poured
Find a weaker one to feed the lies
Avoid the shit, attract no flies
From out of weeds, we flowers mold
Daisies of the desert, conquered desolation of the soul
Spread upon the infinite with eyes to see the whole
All those vanquished under trembling holds
Can’t stop the young from stamping out the old
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Old 11-09-05   #32
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Will to Power
Courage is my seed
The strength of those who bleed
Find the good through simple needs
Reap the harvest of the weeds
Become a man and cease to bleed
I crave the pain that feeds
Better hated
Than sedated
To a method of control
Find the strength
And go the length
To reach the top as keeper of your soul
Courage is my strength
And a light for those who wait
I have opened up the gate
To rule the kingdom is my fate
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Old 11-14-05   #33
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4 Days Ago 21:32
are you gonna eat your...
11-01-17 01:43
Last post by Sic Simon
1 Week Ago 03:45
Things that I'm not...
10-30-05 21:09
Last post by Sic Simon
1 Week Ago 00:51
basic earthling rights
07-17-14 22:08
Last post by Sic Simon
2 Weeks Ago 22:11
Where are the tits?
3 Weeks Ago 20:38
Last post by Sic Simon
3 Weeks Ago 21:33
Obama sends a letter.
10-19-17 22:42
Last post by Sic Simon
3 Weeks Ago 14:09
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